Chapter 12
That evening, Billy pulled on his Armani black micro-dot peak dinner jacket over an open collar white shirt, checked his hair in the mirror, then headed out into the living room.
“Oooh, swanky,” Ben said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear that jacket before.”
“You haven’t,” Billy said. “Picked it up last week, specifically for tonight.”
“It would do the Rat Pack proud.”
“What do you know about the Rat Pack? Were any of them even alive when you were born?”
“Almost all of them. But they were all too old to do much Rat Packing at that time.”
Stone entered the living room. “What’s this about the Rat Pack?”
“I was saying that Billy would have fit right in with them in that outfit,” Ben said.
Stone walked over and ran a finger over Billy’s lapel. “Nice. Armani?”
“It is,” Billy said, impressed.
“I could see Dean Martin in this.”
“I can think of no higher praise.”
The front gate buzzer went off.
“That should be our ride,” Ben said. He hurried over to the intercom. “Yes?”
“It’s Jim, with H & G Limousines.”
“I’ll buzz you in.”
By the time Ben opened the front door, the luxury minibus he’d arranged for was pulling to a stop.
Peter and Hattie walked into the living room looking party ready in a sleek black suit and a blue cocktail dress, respectively.
“Are we the last?” Peter asked.
“Still waiting for Tessa and Mari,” Billy said.
“I’m here,” Mari said, appearing from the hallway that led to the basement stairwell. In addition to the belowground studio, there was a bedroom originally built as a crash pad for anyone involved in a recording session.
She was wearing distressed black jeans, an Atarashii Gakko! T-shirt, and a purple fur jacket that covered only her arms and shoulders. It was a look that perfectly captured her pop-star persona.
While Hattie walked over to Mari to admire her outfit, Billy stepped toward Peter. “Is your pitch ready?”
“As ready as it will ever be, I think,” Peter said.
The hope was that Peter would get a few minutes alone with Damian and offer him a role in Peter’s next film. Peter had written the part specifically with Damian in mind.
“Don’t worry. He’d be crazy not to say yes.”
Peter crossed his fingers.
The front door opened again, and Ben returned. “If everyone’s ready, our ride awaits.”
“We’re still missing your wife,” Billy said.
“Ah. I’ll collect her. You all go ahead.”
Ben headed toward the bedroom he and Tessa were using, but before he even made it into the hallway, she stepped out, looking stunning in a red single-strap dress and matching Versace pumps. He stopped dead in his tracks.
“Wow.”
She raised an eyebrow. “All you can say is ‘Wow’?”
He gaped for a moment longer. “You look fantastic.”
“That’s better.”
“I think you look spectacular,” Billy said. He was the only other person still in the room.
“Why, thank you, Billy. That’s what I was looking for.”
She slipped her arm in his and glanced over at her husband. “Come on, dear. We have a party to attend.”
—
Across town at the Mountain View Resort & Spa, Victor Popov straightened his tie and grimaced at his reflection in the mirror.
He should have been excited. He had been, in fact, when he’d woken up. Tonight, he would be attending a party at the home of Damian Leon. It was like a dream. But the incident on the golf course had killed his mood.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling so humiliated. He’d done nothing wrong. His so-called caddie had been an idiot, and Popov was perfectly within his rights to make his displeasure known.
How dare he be the one kicked off the course! It should have been that son of a bitch who had tried to hit him with a golf ball.
He closed his eyes. He needed to purge the morning’s events from his memory. Not forever, but until he had time to do something about it. Tonight, he had a movie star’s party to attend, and he wanted to enjoy every moment of it.
When he opened his eyes, he finally felt himself again.
He made his way to the bungalow’s living area, where several of his men were waiting.
“Good evening, Mr. Popov,” Aleksei greeted.
“Are we ready?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. The vehicles are waiting.”
Popov grunted, then motioned for everyone to get moving.
The invitation allowed him to bring one guest. He had bestowed that honor on Aleksei. But he never traveled without a team of men nearby. So, the others would be waiting in one of the Broncos, just down the street.
It wasn’t that he was anticipating trouble, but years of clawing his way to the top, often by permanently eliminating his competition, had made him cautious about his personal safety.
The SUVs were waiting just outside the gate.
Aleksei raced ahead and opened the door for his boss. Once Popov climbed in, Aleksei followed.
“Lundstrom?” Popov asked.
“He will be here at midnight,” Aleksei confirmed.
“You have someone watching him?”
Aleksei nodded. “Vladimir has been on him all day.” He gave Popov a quick rundown of Lundstrom’s activities, which amounted to nothing of interest. “My brother has been instructed to make sure Lundstrom arrives to our meeting on time.”
Popov nodded once. “I plan on enjoying the party, so I expect you to handle any problems that come up while we’re there.”
“Understood.”
—
At the same time in Thousand Palms, Marty sat in his car in a grocery store parking lot a mile from Emma’s place, sucking down the remainder of an iced coffee.
Once more, he was struck by how ridiculous it was to live this far outside of Palm Springs. He, for one, wouldn’t be caught dead even considering moving here. It had zero cool appeal.
He glanced at the clock on his dashboard for what felt like the millionth time: 8:14 p.m.
Only two minutes had passed since his last check.
“Fuck it.”
He tossed his cup out the window and dropped his car into Drive.
He had no idea where this party she was attending was located, but her friend Ronan had told her to be there by eight-thirty. Even if she was running a little late, Marty figured she would have left by now.
He turned onto her road, then slowed when he neared her driveway. He planned on pulling right onto her property. But just before doing so, he saw that her sedan was still tucked under the carport.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
Why hadn’t she left yet?
He drove to the end of the block, intending to make a U-turn and pull back onto the shoulder, when a long beep forced him to slam on the brakes. A moment later, a motorcycle that seemed to appear out of nowhere raced past him.
“Holy shit!”
Marty put a hand on his chest and took several deep breaths, as he watched the bike zoom away and turn into the housing tract.
Once his heart rate was down a few notches, he completed his turn and parked at the edge of the road.
—
Emma was in her workshop, scribbling notes on her tablet computer, while Ari dozed on the floor near her feet.
Thirty minutes ago, as she was putting on her makeup for the party, she was hit with an idea of how to make up the remaining gap in the desired efficiency of her device. She’d immediately put down her mascara applicator and rushed to her desk, where she’d been ever since.
She finished her final thought and was halfway through reading everything over when her phone buzzed twice with a text.
She ignored it and continued reading.
Again, her phone buzzed, but this time with a call. She continued to block it out.
A few moments later, the vibrations started again.
“Ugh!” she exclaimed, grabbing the device.
Ronan’s name appeared on the screen.
She accepted the call and put it on speaker. “What?”
“You’re still at home, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Are you even dressed yet?”
“Of course I’m dressed.” She looked down at her clothes, expecting a variation of the shorts and T-shirt she usually wore around the house, not the black dress she had on. “Oh, crap. The party.”
“The party. You had an idea, didn’t you?”
She winced. “If it helps, it was a good one.”
“That makes me feel marginally better.”
“What time is it?”
“Eight-twenty-seven.”
“You should have let me know sooner.”
“Check your messages.”
She did so and saw that she had a dozen texts from him. “Eh. Have I already said sorry?”
“You don’t need to.”
“Sorry,” she said, anyway.
“I assume being here by eight-thirty is out of the question.”
“I’m ready to go, I swear. I’ll be there in twenty.”
“You promise you won’t go right back to working?”
“I’m turning my tablet off right now,” she said and did exactly that. “I’ll be there soon.”
“You’d better be,” he said, a bit of playfulness in his voice.
On the line, a distant voice called Ronan’s name.
“I gotta go,” he said. “Don’t make me call you again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
She hung up and headed for the door.
—
Marty was beginning to wonder if Emma had taken a rideshare to the party when the headlights of her sedan flashed on.
“It’s about time,” he said.
He watched her back out of the carport, then drive off her property.
He waited an additional five minutes after her taillights disappeared from view to make sure she didn’t come back, then pulled onto the road.
—
While Emma might not have seen him, Marty’s movements did not go unnoticed.
In the dark, just beyond the entrance to the under-construction housing tract, Vladimir Zenin sat on his motorcycle, observing the engineer’s curious behavior.